


in gratitude

by kincaidian



Category: Soul Eater
Genre: Implied Relationships, M/M, Pre-Canon
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-12-13
Updated: 2013-12-13
Packaged: 2018-01-04 13:13:24
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 588
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1081424
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/kincaidian/pseuds/kincaidian
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Nothing more than a memory, lingering in the quiet places: Kami Albarn, a short glimpse. Implied Stein/Spirit.</p>
            </blockquote>





	in gratitude

Theirs was a partnership built on the expectation of this moment- Kami had been waiting for it for months now, circled in a mental calendar with a thick black marker. She didn't look forward to it, just acknowledged its certainty and tried to get on with her life as usual.

And sure enough, here Spirit was. His crosses had been knocked askew and he was still wearing the same olive green shirt he put on this morning, even though it was well past midnight. His nails were bitten bloody, his mouth in an odd shape, and he probably knew that clasping his hands didn't hide how badly they were shaking.

He paused in the doorway and began taking his shoes off, stepping out of them one after the other fumblingly. He took two steps into the room and hesitated again, unsure, tentative, because his world had changed, changed in a way he subconsciously knew couldn't be fixed, and nothing held value anymore. Nothing was sacred.

Kami swallowed, and nodded. Spirit without faith was a fundamentally flawed Spirit, and she wasn't sure she could handle this strange new tilt of the world where Spirit didn't laugh or say anything monumentally idiotic within ten consecutive seconds.

Spirit forced a flutter of a smile. It died like smoke and he was left stranded in the middle of the room, barefooted monochrome ghost of the boy with mischief in the curl of his smile and sunlight in his hair.

He lifted the white blanket and sheet and climbed in under them. He seemed to be made entirely of elbows and knees and bony wrists, but Kami had seen him in Weapon form and so knew about the quicksilver grace and the curve of his blade, sharp and unflinching and luminous like justice.

This was her job now, Kami thought. Spirit had so many puzzle pieces missing right then; some gone forever, she acknowledged, but despite everything, he still burned bright with potential. If she could only find some, fill him in as best she could. Maybe then she would be enough.

But not yet.

Right now, as of this moment, Spirit was a broken boy flung aside and left behind, fallen to her for refuge.

"He's gone," Spirit said, and his voice was desolate and small. "He's not coming back."

Kami wished for the strength to lie. "No," she said. There was nothing for her to give, nothing to nurture or soothe because Spirit was rattling with emptiness and sucked dry of faith. She couldn't fix it or patch over the damage or help him heal in any way until Spirit had properly grieved and it was out of his system for good.

Spirit's bitten-raw nails left bloody smudges when he dug them into the clinical white of the sheets. "I didn't mean it," he whispered. "I told him all those awful things and I, I told him I never wanted to see him again."

"I know," Kami replied.

"I'd never- I couldn't-"

And Spirit was crying, and Kami was holding him as gently and as lovingly as she could. She knew what was coming next, so she whispered, "He was _experimenting_ on you, Spirit," just to stall what he was about to say.

He stuttered out a breath, and said it anyway. "I'd forgive him _anything._ "

She brushed aside a lock of vivid red hair with trembling fingers. His skin was smooth and pale, his cheeks glittering with grief.

He said again, with a faraway look in his sky-colored eyes, " _Anything._ "


End file.
